A few days ago she held the branches like a parasol – shielding her face from the heat she once loved, lived for even. This same woman used to plant her face against the icy window on a February afternoon – just to sense its glow. Close her eyes and envision the red. Remember the way grass felt under her bare feet – lick her lips recollecting the smell of water leaving a garden hose. Mutter under her breath, wishing winter to leave – she was sick of seeing dead leaves.

This woman now settled in the place of perpetual summer – feels the all too familiar chill to her bones. She puts on extra layers while the lizards lie like statues at her feet. Watches the hawks bounce on the January winds and forget that she is driving. Digs out her grandmother’s quilt from her closet (the quilt of pale random squares, playful tufts of thread, and white downy backing), and she will remember the sweet dreams of her youth.

Winter found its way to her, and she just wants to be warm again; be happy again. She wants to remember what hopes brought her to the land of palms. Stop cursing the march of time. Mutter under her breath, and wish winter to leave – she was sick of certain memories. Be grateful that her winter really isn’t winter; except for right now.

Sorry for my absence. We ended up having to evacuate our home in South Florida due to Hurricane Irma. The first day we drove to Valdosta, Georgia. What should have been a 5.5-hour journey turned into a 12-hour drive fest on back roads to avoid the “real” jams on the Turnpike or 95. From there the plan was to go to Birmingham, Alabama but Irma changed her course and wanted to follow us. So, last-minute we decided to trek to Richmond, Virginia to visit family. We spent another day in the car – this time 15 hours. In the wee hours of the morning, we would see cars piled into rest areas – I assumed the occupants were sleeping. We continued past and didn’t arrive at our destination in Virginia until 3 am.

My beautiful autistic son with Type 1 diabetes, epilepsy, and mental health diagnoses was given an emergency prescription of Geodon to get us there safely. We only had one major behavior “hiccup.” (We also had a car accident, but that’s a different story.)

My son, stressed because we had to leave our house and stuck in the car, decided to whip my head back a few times by grabbing my hair. I’m driving, of course, and my daughter, trying to shield my head, almost had her arm broke trying to protect me. We were, thankfully, going through a city, and I was able to pull over for safety.

Long story short – I’ll spare you the miserable details, or I’ll write a pretty poem about them later, we are finally back home.

Debris to clean up, hurricane shutters to take down and food to buy is what the next few days hold.